


Bottled Up

by Scriptess



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Denial of Feelings, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Eventual Smut, Everybody Lives, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, King Thorin, My First Smut, Overprotective Thorin, Romance, Slow Burn, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-09-07 13:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20310196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriptess/pseuds/Scriptess
Summary: Everyone survives the Battle of the Five Armies and return to Erebor, set on re-building their home, the kingdom under the mountain. While diggin, miners find a female dwarf, hidden behind a stone wall encrusted in shimmering and strangely polished rubies. As Dwalin tries to move her, an unknown power lashed out at him. Can Thorin protect his men and ultimately his sanity?-----------------------------------------------------This is a work in progress! Updates might be irregular and slow. The rating is for later chapters ;)





	1. Daughter of Rubies

**Author's Note:**

> A warm, fuzzy welcome to this story :) It's been a long time since I have written a story like this, but I really wanted to share the idea that I had regarding an original dwarven female character. Plus one can never have too many Thorin / OC stories! Enjoy :)

It happened after 3 months of digging. After endless tunnels were carved with axes, countless gems mined with care. The miners of Erebor, the kingdom under the mountain, were looking forward to expanding the massive halls, making sure that the city would have enough space for every dwarf who returned.

It happened during the night. One of the miners had just uncovered another path into the mountain when he noticed a ruby in the stone wall to his left. It had a shimmering light surrounding it, making the gem look like a pearl in broad daylight. Intoxicated by its beauty, the miner dropped his pickaxe and got down on his knees to examine it further. The ruby did not possess any rough edges, instead, it seemed to be polished.

“By Mahal, how is that possible…?”, the miner muttered under his breath, while reaching for his tool again. If there was a cluster of gems to be found in those walls, and he was the one to find it, his king would be very proud of him, no doubt. He set to work, indeed uncovering more and more rubies along the way. Beaming with pride, he investigated each and every single one of it. They all seemed to be smooth, just like the first one, casting a soft red light onto the tunnel due to their shimmer.

The miner stood up and ran out of his tunnel while shouting. His brethren, previously occupied with their own digging, turned around, ready to shush him. But once he showed them what he had found, they looked at the rubies in awe.

“We have to inform the king! Quickly, brothers!” And so, they did.

Thorin was awake in an instant after someone had knocked on his door several times. Quickly fixing his hair and his blue tunic, while grabbing his fur-lined cloak, he slipped into his boots. Despite being tired, he straightened and opened the door.

“I hope you have a good reason to wake me up.” His voice was like gravel, his throat not yet awake enough to operate properly.

“Excuse the late disturbance, my king.” One of his servants stood in front of him. “There has been a discovery in the mining tunnels. The miners spoke of strangely shaped rubies that emit a sort of shimmer or light. They deemed it necessary to tell you right away, which is why I came to fetch you.”

Without hesitation, Thorin responded with a short “Lead the way.” and followed his servant from the royal floor over the main halls down to the endless maze of mining halls, where they were expected by excited miners. Upon his arrival, they all bowed down quickly, while he gave them a short nod. Just as they had been about to tell him of their findings, Dwalin also found his way to the mining halls, clearly dishevelled and frowning. He gave Thorin a quick bow as well, which the king acknowledged with another nod of his.

“So, what’s the meaning of this?” Dwalin enquired, tiredness evident in his features.

One miner stepped forward. “Please, my king, my lord, follow me and see for yourself. It’s hard to describe with words alone.” He began to lead the group to his mining tunnel, deep into the mountain.

When they stood in front of the ruby wall, Thorin and Dwalin were amazed. Never before had they seen gems so polished straight from the stone.

“Is it safe to touch them?” Thorin asked, looking at the miners questioningly.

“It is, my king.” Was the answer from the miner, who had lead them there.

Thorin bowed down and cupped one ruby with his hands. Not only was it smooth to the touch, but it also fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. The shimmer illuminated his skin, shining through it with a soft tint.

Thorin smiled. “They are beautiful.”

The miner agreed eagerly. “Indeed, your Highness. We wanted to show you their beauty before mining them out of the wall. Would you like to stay and oversee the process?”

The king nodded and stepped away from the ruby-wall, giving the miners enough space to work on the gemstones. He made his way over to Dwalin, discussing where the stones could be used. Should they keep their light, even after mining them from the wall, they would have been beautiful in the main hall, greeting every visitor and basking them in their light. The two dwarves were lost in thought when a miner suddenly gasped.

“My king! There is someone inside the stone!”

Thorin rushed to his side, peeking through the holes of the wall. His eyes widened when he made out a small cavern with a female dwarf, lying on the ground unconsciously. Her chestnut hair sprawled around her with no braids. Instead of the usual beard, you would find on dwarven women, this one had a smooth face, covered in bruises, cuts and dirt. Her clothing was covered in dust and did not hold any colour to it anymore. She wore a simple gown, with two small pockets on the front. What caught Thorin’s eye was the belt she had around her waist: It was made of a silvery material, shining against her otherwise dirty appearance, with intricate designs and symbols, that the king had not seen anywhere. He concentrated on her form, trying to make out whether she was still breathing or not, and he was able to see a little bit of movement in her chest. Other than that she did not move at all.

Thorin turned to the miners. “**Naithkî** (mine together)! We have to get her out.” He grabbed a pickaxe himself, as did Dwalin, and together they mined an entryway to her cavern.

As the group entered the room, they were filled with an eerie feeling. She had an aura to her, that was strangely familiar to Thorin, yet he was not able to place it.

Dwalin kneeled down next to her and moved his hand to feel her pulse. The moment his skin met hers, his eyes grew wide. He was overpowered by pain, gritting his teeth together and straining his muscles, as if he was fighting against someone. Thorin rushed to his side and tried to remove Dwalin’s hand from the skin of the female dwarf. It wouldn’t budge.

“Dwalin! Let go of her!”, Thorin ordered, “Dwalin!”

Dwalin struggled. His hand felt like it was melting into her skin. He felt so powerless, being sucked into a place of pain. He took a deep breath and with a loud groan, that Thorin only ever heard on the battlefield when Dwalin swung his axe, he ripped his hand from her skin, expecting it to be burned or worse.

His hand was unharmed. His mind, however, was not.

Dwalin panted, looking at his hand in bewilderment. “How…? What…?”

Thorin lay a hand on his arm, turning Dwalin’s limp to him, examining potential wounds. When the king could not find any, he asked: “Are you alright, brother?”

“I felt like I was burning from the inside out.”, Dwalin answered truthfully, “But now the feeling is gone.”

The miners had all taken a step back after what they had seen, not daring to stay in the small cavern. Fear was visible in their eyes, some had even run from the group.

Thorin moved to stand and brought Dwalin up with him. “Go to the healer and let her look at you.”

Dwalin scoffed. “I don’t need a healer. I’m fine! It was just temporary. As long as I don’t touch her, everything seems to be alright.”

“ ’Seems alright’ is not good enough for me. We need to make sure there was no more damage. Masga is our best healer. If there’s anything wrong, she will know.”

Dwalin looked at his king and bowed his head reluctantly. “As you wish, your highness.”

As he turned to walk away, Thorin moved slightly to the side, to let him pass.

That was when it happened.

Thorin felt a hand on his boot, and a loud gasp was echoing through the chamber. The woman on the floor opened her eyes wide, revealing glowing, green eyes. She turned her head to look into Thorin’s face, while not directly looking him in the eyes, horror and pain evident in her features. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her grip tightened. She hit a muscle, which instantly brought Thorin to his knees, his hair flying into his face, strands of black and silver covering his eyes. He could feel her endless and devastating sorrow, a feeling of solitude washing over him.

“**Binhanas… Binhanas… Ihsi…** (helpless… helpless… Help me…)” she muttered and as quickly as she awoke, the life in her died down. She was unconscious again, her hand slipping from Thorin’s boot, into the dirt of the cavern.

It all happened so quickly, that Dwalin, who had just gotten to the entry-way, only saw the look on his king’s face as he turned around.

Thorin looked at him. “We have to get her to Masga.”

Dwalin returned his king's look with a raise of his eyebrows. “What? Have you seen, what she did? I can’t even touch her!”

The miners in the tunnel outside the cavern seemed to agree as well, their muttering getting louder and louder.

“Enough!” The roar of their king silenced them. “Yes, she seems dangerous to touch. But she is in need of help! And we will never turn away people in need here in Erebor. Never.”

Thorin bent down and slid one arm behind her legs, while he placed the other one behind her back. Upon touching her, he felt her sorrow again, filling him up with thoughts and memories of times long past. Times, where the Lonely Mountain was not their home anymore. Times, where he felt devastated, not having a real home. It hit him right in his heart. It took everything from him, to not submit to the pain. He grunted and lifted her up, carrying her as careful as he was able to. He knew that his hands were not the most pleasant, rough and calloused from his blacksmith days and from training and fighting, but he tried to be gentle.

She didn’t make a sound aside from her slow breathing.

The miners went back to work, picking up all of the strange rubies and storing them for their later purpose.

Dwalin, who was walking beside his king, was scowling. “She is dangerous. I can see it in your face. She might not do the same to you, as she did to me, but she is doing something with you.”

Thorin turned his head to look at him, showing his friend and companion his pained expression. “I know.”

They walked on in silence.


	2. A Dam Called Arka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our OC finds a friend, is responsible for some very emotional outbreaks and gets a first good look at the king's handsomeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything out of "The Hobbit". This is a non-profit fanfic to fix my broken heart after BOFA.

Thorin struggled and fought with his emotions all the way to the healer. The closer they got to their destination, the darker his thoughts were becoming. He was trained to keep his feelings at bay, to exude royal power and to not be weak. But being attached to the female dwarf in his arms, he felt like all the emotions he had been hiding over the years were brought to the surface. Each and every one of it came with a different, painful memory.

They were close to the healer now, Thorin was already able to see the massive door on the other side of the main hall. The fire in the house’s hearth was still going, sending a shimmer of light through the windows. Only a few more steps. The dwarven king gritted his teeth, fighting through the onslaught on his heart. Dwalin went ahead of them, intent on letting Masga know of their presence and ‘guest’ before Thorin could burst into her home.

The king was lost in thought when he suddenly felt a twitch from the woman he was carrying. He bowed his head slightly, only to get lost in her emerald eyes. She was looking directly at him with a confused expression. He started to feel it before it happened…

**~ Her POV from now on ~**

She panicked. When she had opened her eyes, she saw an unfamiliar face, in an unfamiliar place. She felt lost, trapped and alone. When her muscles twitched, the dwarf looked down at her, his azure eyes widening when he captured her gaze. She didn’t like that look, that he gave her. She didn’t like it at all.

Her hands made their way to his chest. She wanted to grab his blue tunic and push him away from her. But her body did not cooperate; she was weak and any attempt to get out of his grip resulted in more pain. Her arms felt as if they were on fire; pushing against his chest had probably been the worst idea she ever had. He was as sturdy as stone, not budging at all. Her cheek was pressed in the fur of his… was that a cloak?

She didn’t know who he was, but his muscular form was carrying her with ease, his hands behind her back and knees, holding her. He simply walked onwards, while looking at her with that gaze of his, mirroring how she was feeling on the inside, his black and silver locks framing his face. She did not say a word, instead gathering all her remaining strength to get out of his grip with a last fight.

To no avail.

“Stop that.” His baritone voice vibrated through her and her lips parted slightly. He had a voice like thunder, deep and warm, but it did not tolerate disobedience.

She wanted to say something, anything, but her voice was not there. She opened and closed her mouth several times, with no sound coming out of it, feeling more helpless by the minute. Trying to calm herself down, she started breathing slowly in with her nose and out through her mouth.

His gaze left hers and he closed his eyes briefly, while shaking his head. He grunted and she could see his jawline working when he pressed his teeth together. He drew shaky breaths, clearly struggling with something. As he opened his eyes again, he let out a sort of low growl and picked up the speed with which he was carrying her.

She was not afraid to fall for his hands were gripping her tightly, without hurting her, securing her in his arms. But where was he taking her? What was he going to do to her?! Her head started spinning, and she pressed her eyes shut. Surely, if he had wanted to hurt her, he wouldn’t be carrying her like this… Would he? ‘Please don’t let him hurt me…’, she repeated this over and over in her head, fear spreading in her with every step he took.

A war-cry was torn from his throat when he sunk to his knees and almost dropped her. His grip on her tightened and he looked at her with such an angry scowl, that she felt like burning from the inside out. Another man entered her view, this one bald on top of his head, with a long mane of wild untamed hair at the back and with a magnificent beard. He looked at them and was reaching for her. He didn’t seem friendly, nor did he seem to be of the gentle sort. His face was scarred, he was a warrior for sure. Her eyes went wide when his hands came near her. “No, no, no, please…” she breathed, not sure he would even hear her. His hands stopped immediately, regarding her with an angry scowl.

“Then stop hurting him.”, he gritted through his teeth.

‘What?’ She looked back up into the face of the black-haired dwarf that was carrying her. His scowl was no longer angry, instead, he looked pained, emotions running wild in his eyes, making them look like the sky before a thunderstorm.

He propped up one knee, closing his eyes and drawing a shaky breath. “I will…”, he started and pushed himself to stand, staggering slightly to one side before becoming the unmovable boulder once more, “… carry her…”, his voice strained as he began walking again, “… inside!” he almost shouted and with that, he took big strides towards his destination. He almost ran, with her in his arms. They entered a house, the front door carved out of black stone, and he sat her on a soft surface, the mattress of a bed, his hands leaving her body instantly as if he had burned himself.

She looked around to scan her surroundings. He had placed her on a bed carved out of stone. To her left was a fireplace with glowing embers in it. Cooking Pots were hanging low in the fire, boiling unknown contents and bubbling. Opposite of the bed was a small table with five chairs around it, to the right of that was the door through which the black-haired dwarf had just carried her and in which the bald dwarf was now standing with crossed arms.

The black-haired dwarf stood with his back to her, bracing his arms on the table. His tunic was slightly dishevelled, the sleeves riding up his muscular arms, revealing countless scars on his skin. A gasp escaped her lips when he turned around and regarded her with a wild look and she pressed herself into the cold stone wall behind her to get as far away as possible. Upon seeing that he scoffed.

“I won’t touch you again.”, he stated, took off his fur-lined cloak and sat down on one of the chairs, facing her. The dwarf fixed his tunic, tugging at the material and smoothening it down. She caught a glimpse of his bare chest, covered in dark hair and sweat, before he adjusted the fabric, and blushed, feeling as if she had seen something she was not supposed to see. He didn’t notice, or at least, he didn’t say anything about it. His legs were covered in black, soft fabric and his boots were strapped to his feet with leather bindings, tip, sole and heel crafted from fine metal and decorated with carvings.

As her eyes roamed over him, she couldn’t deny that he was handsome. His blue eyes were a fascinating contrast to his black hair, and his silver strands stood out against the obsidian tresses. His hair was flowing, soft curls bouncing in them, except for two small braids, which were adorned with a bead of some sort, silver in colour. He moved his hand into his hair and drew it back, freeing his eyes from the few locks that always seemed to fall into his face. She blinked. Pushing a thought aside, she tried to move to the edge of the bed. Pain flared up in her stomach, her abdominal muscles not able to handle the sudden use. When she used her hands and arms to support her body, she winced, trying to ignore the burn in her muscles.

That sound had him fixing his gaze at her again. Before he could say anything, another figure came down the stairs of the room.

“Where is she?”, a woman asked as she rounded the stairs and looked directly at her with hazel eyes, gaze softening immediately. “Hello there, child.” Her voice was calming and incredibly soothing, compared to the grunts and yelling she had heard from the other two dwarves in the room. She was an older dam, her hair white and braided away from her face. It came down to her waist, engulfing her in a white shine. Her beard was short, a small bead holding it together under her chin. She was clothed in a green gown with white sleeves. The gown itself was embroidered in the middle, fine stitching drawing intricate designs down the front, on a velvety stripe. It was beautiful.

She turned to the two dwarves, bowing before the black-haired one, whilst nodding shortly to the other one. “Thank you for bringing her here.” With that she turned to her again, looking her up and down, concern visible in her eyes. “Mahal, what happened to you?” She quickly grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it with her, to sit directly next to the bed. A little smile played around her lips when she spoke again. “I am Masga, wife of Balin, the healer. Who are you?”

“I..”, she started, coughing slightly to regain her voice, “I don’t know… Where am I?” she stammered. She felt a knot forming in her throat, restricting her breathing, but she refused to cry. She swallowed and closed her eyes while breathing slowly in and out. When she opened them up again, Masga was still looking at her with a warm expression on her face.

“You are in the kingdom under the mountain, beneath the Erebor. We, or better yet, our miners, found you in one of our tunnels,” she answered truthfully and searched her eyes for any sign of recognition, which did not come.

The pain in her body flared to life and she winced and hissed again, falling back against the stone wall. Masga surged forward, putting one hand behind her head to cushion the fall, whispering “Careful now.” She had a concerned look in her eyes, pressing her lips together into a thin line.

The two dwarves closed in, their eyes going wide, looking as if they were ready to strike some sort of foe she was not able to see. Masga turned her head to the side to look at them questioningly, stopping them in their tracks. “Don’t come rushing in like that! You’re scaring her with your glooming, brooding demeanour.” She then removed her hand from behind her head and guided her down, so that she was now lying in bed. Masga then sat back down and looked at her softly.

“I want to take a look at your injuries. Is that okay?”, Masga asked her, gently taking her hand in hers, which lead to the two other dwarves pressing in on her again. “Just a second, dear…” With that, she stood up and turned around to the two other dwarves. “What is it with you two?” She sighed.

“Isn’t she hurting you?”, the bald one asked, concern and wonder written all over his face. The other dwarf simply scowled, first at her, then at Masga.

The healer let out a chuckle. “Hurting me? Dwalin, I like you, you know that. But are you blind? She is the one that’s hurt, just in case you haven’t noticed. And you, Thorin”, she turned to the black-haired dwarf, “Why are you scowling at her like that? She will think she did something wrong, when-“

“When that’s exactly what she did!” He, ‘Thorin’ apparently, interrupted her, his blue eyes burning bright. “I was trying to help, carrying her here. Yet she burned me, discarding my… my kindness, as if it was nothing!” His anger seemed to flare around him, she was almost sure she could feel the furnace of his rage radiate through her body. Or was it just the fireplace?

“I didn’t do anything to you!”, she yelled, her own anger flaring against his. How dare he accuse her of such a thing? Her emotional outbreak made her head spin, having used so much oxygen for her loud voice. She groaned. Black spots danced in front of her vision and all she could hear was his thunder-like voice, pounding in her ears.

“- so stop lying!”, was the last thing she was able to understand. He had come closer again, panting and glaring at her.

Masga put a hand on Thorin’s chest and the other one on Dwalin’s. “I think it’s best if you leave me alone with her. I need to examine her wounds and care for all the bruises she’s got.”

“Leave you alone with her? Absolutely not. Who knows what she is capable of?”, Dwalin grunted.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But your babbling and outbreaks of anger can have a devastating effect on her fragile self. So please go. Get a good night’s rest and I will care for her. Maybe in the morning, when you two have cooled off, you can talk to her.”

“ ‘Her fragile self’? HER fragile self? She was the one that brought Dwalin to his knees. Her touch will burn you from the inside!”, Thorin yelled, his voice still ringing in her ears.

Masga sighed again, but then a knowing smile crept onto her face. “Her touch brought Dwalin to his knees? And you describe it as ‘burning you from the inside’? Are you sure she has not just **aroused** you two?” She laughed at the faces, Dwalin and Thorin gave her, both mumbling something under their breath and blushing furiously.

Masga smiled at them “I have touched her, nothing happened. You have seen it. Off you go, come on.” With that she gave Thorin his cloak back and shoved both dwarves out of her door, locking it from the inside. Masga shook her head and came back to the bed. “I am sorry for their behaviour.” She looked at her apologetically and smiled. “I would still like to look at your injuries and help you with the pain. If you lean on me, do you think we can make it to the bath upstairs?”

She thought about it, listening to her body. Her arms were still weak and she was sore all over. But a bath sounded lovely. “I can manage.”, she, therefore, croaked, taking Masga’s hand and pulling herself up, resting on the healer’s side.

“Ah, don’t worry. I may be old, but I am far from fragile, lass.” She winked. “Now you hold on tight and we will get you up.”

Together they made it to the bottom of the stairs, and slowly walked up. She used the handrail as an additional way of security, earning a small snicker from Masga. She was liking that dam, she seemed so genuine and kind. When they were at the top, the healer lead her to the right and through a stone door, straight into the bathing room. There was a big tub in the middle of the room, with steaming water in it and a piece of soap lying on its rim. A small stool stood beside it and the right wall was covered in one big mirror. Small metal hooks were attached to the wall on the other side, cloths and fine towels hanging off of each of them.

“I had initially prepared it for me. But when Dwalin told me about you, I knew that it would find another purpose.”, Masga laughed and lead her to the stool, relinquishing her hold of her. “I will now undress you. Your gown will be brought to the washers. After the bath, you can wear one of my gowns. They could be too big for you, but we shall see. You can keep your belt, it seems to be resistant to dirt and grime.”

It was a lot to take in. But somehow her initial instinct was to trust Masga. And lacking any other options, she did just that, placing her trust in the kind dam.

When Masga slid down her gown, she took a sharp breath. “By Mahal...”, she whispered, touching her skin right above her heart, awe and admiration evident in her face.

She looked down and saw a soft red shine shimmering through her skin, where her organ was pumping. “What is that?”, she asked, knowing, that a heart usually did not have such a light.

“I don’t know.”, the healer answered, gently prodding her skin. She lay her hand on her heart, covering the light with it. It didn’t hurt, instead, it made her feel at ease. So much in fact, that she huffed out a small breath she didn’t know she had been holding the entire time. Masga spoke softly, smiling at her. “Extraordinary…”

She turned around to the mirrors and Masga’s hand slipped from her heart. She examined her face and features. She saw her chestnut tresses, frizzy and bushy and matted together at several strands. How long her hair would be, once it was combed, she did not know. She looked at her emerald eyes, experimentally opening them wide and turning her head to observe the colour changes depending on the amount of light that was falling on them. She was a curvy dam with an hourglass figure, her hips slightly larger than the width of her shoulders. With her gown pooling in her lap, she could see her breasts, round and full, with a few bruises covering them. She took a look at where her heart was supposed to be, seeing the red light, that was faint, but still there.

Masga lay a hand on her shoulder, her gaze searching her eyes through the mirror to reassure her, that everything was going to be alright. “Whatever this is, we will find out. For now, we focus on your injuries. You don’t have any deep cuts from what I have seen so far. Let’s get you in the bath. We need to clean the wounds before I can give you some balms for them.”

She nodded and let Masga remove her belt and the rest of her gown. Her feet were clad in slippers made from cloth, which she took off by herself. Once completely naked, she felt insecure and tried to cover up her intimate places. The healer’s hands gently grabbed her wrists, stopping her from doing so.

“Child,” she spoke, “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I have seen countless dams naked and all of them were with me because they needed healing. I am not judging your behind, nor am I judging your breasts. Even though the latter are beautiful.” With that she winked, and the naked dam couldn’t hold back the smile on her face, feeling completely at ease. No wonder this dwarrowdam was a healer. With her soothing voice and her small jokes, she simply made one feel at home.

She stepped into the bath and winced when her sore skin and muscles met the water. She gritted her teeth and continued to put more and more of her naked form into the steaming pool. It hurt like fire, but she knew that it was only temporary. She gathered her hair with her hands and let it hang over the rim of the bath, so that it wouldn’t get wet in its current stage.

Masga excused herself and left the room. Not long after she was in the bathing room again, a comb in her hand.

“Usually your husband would perform this deed. But seeing that you were all alone, I didn’t think you had one already.” The healer chuckled and grabbed the stool to sit down behind her, spreading her hair over her lap. “Oh my… There are some really nasty knots, child. I will do my best not to hurt you. Just try to relax.”

And the moment Masga spread some oil on her hair and started to work on the knots and tangles, she felt a tingle all through her body. It was so relaxing and felt unbelievably nice, the small tugging on her scalp whenever the healer was working on a new knot. Soon she was starting to get sleepy and had almost fallen into a slumber, when she had a thought enter her mind. She gasped, sudden realization hitting her.

She felt hands on her shoulders and through the mirror she was watched by Masga’s careful eyes. “What is it, lass?” she asked.

“I… I remember my name.”, the dam whispered, tears forming in her eyes because she remembered something. “I remember my name!” she exclaimed and turned around in the bath to look at the healer. Her vision became blurry and she could feel the heavy tears that streamed from her eyes.

“I am Arka.”, she squealed with joy, “My name… is Arka.”

They both laughed and Arka felt a bond forming between her and the healer. While she washed her body, Masga was still working on her hair. It took them about one hour to be finished with the cleaning and combing, the water now effectively cold and dirty. When Arka tried to stand up, Masga sensed her slight stagger and rushed to her side immediately, offering her a shoulder to hold onto.

“Thank you.”, Arka muttered and was promptly wrapped in a towel. Drying herself off as best as she could, while Masga went to grab a healing balm, she winced whenever the cloth came into contact with any cut.

“Now, the bruises have to heal by themselves, but they will faint. But for the cuts…”, the healer opened up a jar containing a yellow, thick cream, “This will help your skin to build new tissue and exhilarate your healing.” She smiled, but her expression turned to a concentrated one once she started to spread the cream over all of the cuts. There were two cuts on Arka’s right cheek, one above her collarbone, a few on her back, and several on her arms and legs. Once she had cared for all the cuts, she then Arka a new gown. It was a blue dress, embroidered with silver threads around the arms. The sleeves were wide, as was the hem of the garment, flowing with every breath and step.

She had been right about it being slightly too big. The shoulders didn’t fit at all, the fabric hanging loosely around her upper body. Masga chuckled: “Well, this will do for the night. I will make sure that you have your old gown back in the morning.” She gave Arka her belt back, which she quickly fastened around the dress. At least it helped to give it a bit of a shape.

Arka was still wobbly on her legs, but she only needed to hold onto Masga’s hand for support, not lean her full body into hers. As she sat down on the bed next to the fireplace, the white-haired dam brought a woolen blanket in one and silver beads in her other hand. “Do you know the dwarven customs?” Masga asked, curious if Arka remembered anything.

She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t remember anything except silence for such a long time.” She answered, her gaze lowering to the floor. “I wish I knew…” A sad smile played around her lips and Masga took her into her arms when she started to speak of the significance of braiding one’s hair.

“You see… Hair is something we are very proud of, which is why we do not want to hide it. Instead, we braid and adorn it with beads. There are different techniques, depending on who braids whom’s hair and in which situation.” She held up her hand with the silver beads. “These are used to hold the braids in place. When a dam is of age, she would usually close her hair with beads that have her father’s house symbol on them. But as we don’t know, who that is in your case, I brought beads which have nothing on them.”

Masga ushered Arka to turn around so that she could get working on the braids. They decided on a simple design, one that, according to Masga, was liked by the king a lot. She chuckled softly, whispering something like “_To ease his spirits_.” It consisted of two braids that went around her ears, pulling new strands into it with every new braid. The rest of her hair fell to the middle of her back in loose strands. Masga finished the braids off with two silver beads at the end, almost mirroring the style, in which Thorin had worn his hair. Arka was tired and she stifled a yawn.

Masga gently laid her down on the bed and tucked a woollen blanket around her, just like a parent would do. And Arka knew then, that she was not alone in this city. She had found a friend.

And with that thought, and Masga’s soft humming, she drifted off into deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about compiling a list at the ending of every chapter with "Thorin's Tormenting Thoughts" just to give you guys an insight into our broody king's mind ;)
> 
> \- Thorin feeling proud as he catches her blush when her eyes roamed over his chest  
\- feeling betrayed because she hurt him instead of being grateful (resulting in him, shouting "She lacks all honour!" in his chambers)  
\- feels like a naughty schoolboy when Masga mentions "arousal"  
\- giving Arka an angry scowl through the window before storming off to his quarter (how dare she hurt him, but not Masga?)


	3. Finding a Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a tiny bit heated. Arka has a proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything out of "The Hobbit". This is a non-profit fanfic to fix my broken heart after BOFA.
> 
> Thank you so incredibly much for all your comments and kudos! <3 I am so happy that you enjoy this story and the OC's. It means the world to me!

Arka was dreaming of rain, pattering through leaves and being whirled around by swishing winds. The air was being cleansed and each breath she took, filled her with energy. She felt amazing and walked around barefooted over the wet patches of grass and soil. She saw lightning and heard the roll of thunder a few seconds later, its vibration going through her body. Not long until the thunderstorm had reached her and she was doused in rain, her garments soaked through. She felt free and at ease, so she closed her eyes, lying down in the grass.

And as she lay like this, Arka listened to the thunder. It was as if it was talking to her, through the clouds. ‘Wait… It actually IS talking to me!’ she thought to herself and opened up her eyes. She was staring at a stone ceiling, the rain was gone and replaced by a crackling fire next to her.

She was awake, back in Masga’s home. Arka turned her head to the side and saw three very familiar dwarves sitting at the table, talking to each other. Dwalin and Masga were currently joking about something, while Thorin sat there scowling, his gaze fixed on his hands. He played with one of his rings and twisted it around his finger. His locks were slowly falling into his face again, shielding him from her view. Arka started to get up. Her muscles were still slightly sore, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her arms were now able to support her and so she manoeuvred her body to the edge of the mattress.

Only now did the dwarves notice her, Masga quickly getting up to assist her, but she waved her away.

“I think… I can do it.”, she smiled at the dwarrowdam, pushing herself to stand on her bare feet. The stone floor was warm from the fire. Masga held out her arm for Arka to take, but she was stubborn and did not want to burden the old dam again. So she slowly, but steadily, moved to the table. She was almost there when she tripped over the hem of the gown. Masga sucked in a breath and tried to steady her, but she missed the gown to pull her back.

Instead of her head falling onto the table, it fell against a broad chest, warm hands circling her waist to keep her steady. She blinked, breathing in, a peculiar combination of scents filling her nose: Arka noticed the smell of sharp iron, warm, vanilla pipesmoke and cured leather. She saw a blue tunic in front of her eyes and followed the fabric with her eyes, to a small opening right under the chin of the person it belonged to. She caught a glimpse of a bare chest, which wafted a male, musky and intoxicating scent over to her. As she lifted her head, she saw the trimmed black beard and the sharp jawline, her body almost trembling when she met the steel-blue eyes that were looking down at her.

Of course, it was Thorin.

But he was not angry. If anything, his expression showed confusion and lots of it. She felt his hands sliding across her sides and he wrinkled his forehead. He lifted his hands, just to put them on her shoulders, touching a small piece of skin, where her gown had slid down because it was so big. Upon feeling his hand on her bare skin, Arka became aware of the heat he was radiating and spreading through her body. She felt way too hot, yet not warm enough at the same time, gasping and waiting for... something? She felt on edge, his warmth touching her in places, she tried not to think about. 

Suddenly Thorin’s eyes widened and his hands left her, leaving behind a panting and confused Arka. He turned around and stalked back to his chair.

“What just happened? What is it with you and the touching, Thorin?” Masga’s voice startled her and she drew in a shaky breath.

'Why is it so hot in here?' Arka opened and closed her mouth, but her throat was too dry to say anything.

“When I carried her out of the cavern, she… had me go through emotions.”, Thorin stated.

Masga laughed, which earned her a scowl from Thorin. “Emotions? What, Thorin, you have to be more specific. I mean, I already told you, that I think it was something sexual and after seeing this –“, the healer gestured between them, “I am not so sure I can believe something else.”

Oh, if looks could kill, Masga would have been dead in the blink of an eye. Thorin stood up so abruptly, throwing back the chair he had been sitting on just a moment ago.

“I am your king! Don’t make a fool out of me, dam!” His baritone voice was powerful and he stood so tall and proud that Arka had a hard time not feeling intimidated. She gulped. On the one side she was happy that his outbreak was not directed at her, on the other side she feared for Masga and wanted to shout back at him.

“It was some sort of defence mechanism. When Dwalin wanted to feel her pulse, he was not able to take his hands off of her.” Masga chuckled, which earned her a growl from Thorin, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks. “For fuck’s sake, Masga! Not like that!” He hit the table with his fist.

Everyone’s eyes widened at his language. But while Arka was thinking that he would soon decapitate them all, Dwalin and Masga actually found it amusing, both smiling.

‘How can they smile?!’ Arka thought to herself. ‘He looks furious!’

“Brother…”, Dwalin started, holding up his hands in defeat when said ‘brother’ growled at him. “I’m afraid your words did not describe it accurately. Allow me…”

Thorin took a deep breath, lowering his head and then looking up at him. “Go on…”

“Masga, what Thorin was trying to say is, that touching her was almost impossible without feeling like your hand melted into her skin. It was very painful and had nothing to do with arousal or pleasure at all. That is why we were concerned yesterday when you touched her. But she doesn't seem to cause you the same emotions as she did to us.”

Thorin scoffed. “And now when I touched her, there was no sensation at all, except – “ he stopped mid-sentence, “Nevermind.”

Masga and Arka were looking at them with bewilderment in her eyes. Arka felt like hyperventilating, fanning air to herself.

'Is it getting hotter in here?' Her thoughts started racing and she felt close to fainting.

“Water… I need… water…”, she stammered and slumped down onto the chair in front of her. Masga immediately went to grab a mug for her, filling it with water from the nearby fountain. When she returned, Arka thanked her and almost drank it all in one piece.

She felt a little bit better. Almost colder. But when she looked to the side and saw Thorin’s expression, her body got hotter again. His dark gaze was staring right at her soul and then he traced something with his eyes.

'Is he... looking at my hair?'

“Uhm… So is this why you were having such a hard time carrying me yesterday?”, Arka wondered and avoided Thorin’s eyes, looking anywhere but there. ‘He has very nice hands. Oh and look at those two rings! Such fine craftsmanship!’ she thought to herself, nodding slowly. Her heat-induced mind added a 'Imagine what he could do with those hands.' which made her eyes widen in shock, afraid anyone had heard it.

Thorin scoffed. “Carrying you was hardly a problem –“

“Then why were you on your knees?”, Arka asked. Oh, the heat be damned. It was making her brave. His touch had ignited a spark in her system and she was not sure how she could quench it.

“Because your thoughts kept invading mine. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“So what you’re saying is that I wanted you on your knees?”

“Well, obviously! Otherwise, you wouldn’t have pushed me down there!”

“How was I pushing you? I was barely moving in your arms! You had me pressed against your chest with your vice-like, beautiful hands!”

Thorin growled, which almost sounded like a low purr.

“Not physically. You did something with my mind.” He inched yet closer, a storm gathering in his eyes. She could have sworn that they were a deeper shade of blue. She swallowed. “And I will find out what that was.” It almost sounded like a promise. Or a threat? 

She hadn’t noticed, that while they were arguing, they were leaning closer and closer to one another over the table, glaring at each other. She felt his warm breath on her face and she felt like she was going up in flames any second.

‘Hm, fantastic. I can’t wait!’, Arka thought sarcastically, realizing too late that she had actually said it out loud.

“Oooookay, that’s enough you two.”, Masga chimed in, “As much as I have enjoyed your discussion, and trust me, I have, there are more… pressing matters to attend to.” She chuckled.

* * *

And so Arka learned that on this day she was supposed to go to a council meeting. The topic? Her.

She did not feel comfortable. Just thinking about sitting in a room full of brooding dwarves like Thorin made her nervous. She was not sure about being in the spotlight of said males either, especially not in a gown that kept sliding down her shoulders. Luckily, Masga had her covered, quite literally. She had, just like she had said she would, Arka’s old gown cleaned. The old dam told her that she had laid in in the bathing room so that Arka could change into it easily and without any hassle.

“I will go and change.” She said and stood up, hurrying up the stairs. When she was in the room, she closed the door and leaned her back against it. The look he had given her with his promise had sent chills down her spine. She had felt like a rabbit, sitting in front of its predator. Why was he always this angry? He blamed her for something, she didn’t even remember doing. That didn’t seem fair to her.

And then there was the issue with that cursed heat. Thorin had an effect on her body, that she did not comprehend. Remembering the brief touch of his fingers on her collarbone made her squirm, rubbing her legs together and she let out a small whimper. Splashing her face with water, Arka tried to cool down and ignored the feeling that had settled between her legs. She would not give in to this, not until she knew what was happing to her body.

Arka got out of Masga’s gown and waddled to the stool. There lay her own garments. Her attire was made out of several pieces: first, there were the woollen trousers, that she wore underneath. On top of that, she wore her dress, a beige fabric with ¾-sleeves and easy to slip in and out of as it didn’t have any laces at the front or back. The crucial piece was her overdress. It was designed in a dark forest green colour, with silver embroidery around the edges, and with two small pockets on the front. It was fastened with laces at either side of her waist and topped off with her silver belt, giving her, at last, something that fit her body perfectly. She looked in the mirror and smiled, happy to finally have her own clothing back. She hummed and made her way downstairs.

When Masga saw her, she squealed with joy.

“Ah, just look at you!”, she exclaimed, folding her hands in front of her heart.

Arka blushed. “Thank you, Masga.”, she mumbled, while descending the stairs. When she looked around the corner, she saw that Thorin and Dwalin had already left. She sighed and Masga looked at her questioningly. Arka scoffed. “I just wondered… Was he very upset?”

The dam laughed. “Oh dear, you should have seen his scowl after you had left.”

Arka thought about it. “Well, I can’t really apologize, when I don’t know, what I am apologizing for, right?”

“You are right. But Thorin is a stubborn dwarf, I fear it will take some time for him to notice that.” Masga said, handing her a small bundle. “Just some food for the way. We should get going if we want to be on time for the council.”

Arka’s stomach grumbled and the old dam laughed. “And just in time for your stomach as well, it seems!”

They left the house after Masga gave Arka her cloth slippers, and while munching on some bread, Masga told Arka all about the council. It mainly consisted of the royal house and very close friends. In total there were fourteen dwarves, all ready and eager to meet her. Arka was not as excited. She still hoped that they were more friendly than their so-called ‘king’.

The way to the council hall was long and difficult. They had to tread over polished stone floors, so slippery that Arka held onto Masga’s arm for dear life, while the older one was laughing all the way. If she was alone in the dark, she would surely fall into the endless depths of the mountain. How anyone could ever walk, let alone run, on these stairs, was a mystery to her. As they reached the door of the council hall, her panic did not cease. Behind a flight of stairs was a massive entryway, covered in the runes of every council member’s name, as Masga explained to her. To the left and right were broken statues that had a scaffold build around them. Thorin and the council had decided to restore them. They were old statues of previous kings, all sons of Durin, just like Thorin.

When they arrived at the top of the stairs, she was already expected.

There, looking more regal than ever, stood Thorin. Instead of his ‘casual’ tunic, she saw him wearing that morning and the day before that, he had now added a silver plate-mail-shirt underneath it. His tunic was held together by a silver belt adorned with rubies all around it. He had a sword fastened to it, with a silver handle. Thorin had his fur cloak wrapped around him, making him look even stronger and wider than he had been without all that extra armour. His hands were no longer bare, they were now clad in fingerless leather gauntlets. He looked more like a leader than the casual, broody dwarf she had encountered so far.

As her eyes travelled over his form, pausing at his hands, she felt her mouth run dry. When she lifted her gaze, roaming over his chest and up into his face, she could have sworn that he had been smirking. But his expression had changed quickly. His eyes moved down her body, examining her and judging her silently, no doubt. When his gaze rested on her face again, he looked at her through his lashes.

“**Arka**.”, he said and she nearly lost her footing. The way he had let her name roll of his tongue had to have been intentional. No one would have ever said it like that. ‘Right?’, she thought to herself. Or was she imagining things?

Clearing her throat, she slightly bowed her head, and fixed him with her gaze thinking ‘Let me return the favor.’ Arka smiled sweetly.

“**Thorin**.” And his look was priceless. 'Two can play that game, your highness.'

He opened the door to the council hall for her, holding it until she and Masga had gone inside while following shortly after.

The hall, in which they were now standing, was at least 3 times the height of the door. Massive stone-pillars and seating arrangements were built all along the round walls of the hall. There were a few pedestals with stairways, which were all connected through an outer ring. The pedestals were empty because all council members were standing on one balcony, right in front of her. Thorin walked past her, enriching the air she was breathing with his familiar scent, and stood next to Dwalin and his other companions. Masga rubbed over her back shortly and then made her way to the other side as well, standing next to another white-haired dwarf.

“We are the council of Erebor.”, Thorin exclaimed, his proud voice echoing from the walls of the hall. “I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, king under the mountain.” With that, he stepped to the side and two young-looking dwarves, one blond, the other with brown hair, came to the front.

“We are Fíli,” the blonde one said, smirking mischievously, “and Kíli.”, the brown-haired one finished, both bowing before her. “Nephews of Thorin and heirs to the throne.” They seemed very friendly. Arka smiled and she, too, bowed. Their eyes widened slightly and they quickly stood in front of Thorin.

Next up was Dwalin. She could see that he was not enjoying this formal banter.

“I am Dwalin, captain of the guard.”, he grunted, stepping back and making way for Masga and the white-haired dwarf.

“You already know me, but to keep things formal: I am Masga, wife of Balin.”, Masga exclaimed and winked at her. The dwarf next to her was Balin, keeper of the library.

And so they went on, introducing themselves to her, and her nervousness seemed to disappear by the second. They were all very friendly and kind, not a single soul glared at her.

She found out that Nori and Dori were helping with the dinner plans. They liked frequent and extensive meals which is why they wanted to have a hand in the process. Dori was also the strongest, which is why he was often out and about. Ori was a scribe in Balin’s library, translating books or sending out letters on behalf of Thorin. Bifur and Bofur were the honour guard of Thorin, accompanying him when he left the mountain either on hunting quests or small expeditions. Bombur was effectively running the kitchens, making sure that the food was delicious and filling. Oin and Gloin were the best at getting a fire going, so they went wherever they were needed, often on hunting quests or outside missions.

Once they had all introduced themselves, they looked at her expectantly. She fixed her gaze on Masga, which made her feel calm and relaxed.

“I am Arka. I have… awakened here yesterday night, after your king rescued and carried me out of the mine.” The company whistled, Fíli and Kíli wiggling their eyebrows, which Thorin commented with a frown. It made her chuckle. “Sadly, I have no memory of where I come from.”

“I have called this council meeting today because we need to discuss what to do with her.”, Thorin said, resting his gaze on her. “Suggestions?”

It was Balin who spoke first, his voice calm and wise.

“Every dwarf and dwarrowdam here in Erebor, has a craft, a… purpose. Why don’t we give her the opportunity to prove herself in a craft and weapon of her choosing?”

A murmur of approval went through the dwarves as they thought about Balin’s proposal.

“Isn’t that a bit unfair, considering she’s lost her memory?”, Masga chimed in, “Besides, we’ve found her in the mines, embedded in stone. She is no ordinary dam. I say, we let her take a look at the crafts, and then she can train in those she finds interesting.”

“Do you know how long taking on a craft will take?”, Dwalin groaned and looked at Arka. “We’d have to train her for months! The same goes for the weapon training if she does not have any memory of that either."

She just stood there, unsure what to say, when they started arguing on her behalf. She could understand, that everyone had to do something in order for this to work, but forcing her to prove herself directly, without any preparation was a bit unfair. On the other hand she could also see, that the dwarves probably had other things to do than train her in a craft, even though some of them, like Fíli and Kíli, were all too eager to do just that. The voices grew louder, Masga defending Arka all the time, Thorin’s nephews were on her side as well.

She fought with herself before she took a few steps in their direction and shouted: “**Enough!**” her mezzo-soprano voice filling the hall.

The dwarves were silent again, no one dared to say a word.

Arka looked at them and was slightly confused because she found… admiration in most of their eyes. They seemed to be listening now, so she spoke again.

“I would like to train with those who want to train me, experimenting with different crafts. I don’t remember if I had any particular talents, wherever I am from, but I want to make this work. I can see that you are genuine and kind people, and you, Thorin, only want what’s best for them. It would be my honour to learn from all of you and I promise, that I will give something in return. Even if I have to give up parts of myself.”

She didn’t know where she should be looking because all their eyes were fixed on her. So she focused her gaze on the one, that truly mattered: Thorin.

And he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's Tormenting Thoughts:
> 
> \- Thorin's body reacting, his mind yelling "Protect!" as Arka's head is about to meet the table
> 
> \- He notices her smelling him and is VERY pleased by her gasp
> 
> \- "Continue to speak and I will carry you to a secluded corridor of this mountain, where no one can hear us"-mood
> 
> \- Feeling arousal rolling off of her when he touched her bare skin
> 
> \- He has to swallow a "Like what you see?" as she checks him out in front of the council hall (which is totally inappropriate for a king!)
> 
> \- His mind yelling "My Queen!" when Arka shouts "Enough!" and silenced everyone (refer to "Continue to speak"-mood)


	4. Sparring with the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few dashes of smut, as sparring with Thorin leaves our dear OC hot and extremely bothered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything out of "The Hobbit". This is a non-profit fanfic to fix my broken heart after BOFA.  
__________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos, visits and comments! <3

It was decided that they would focus on finding her a weapon first. Even though Smaug, the dragon who took Erebor from the dwarves, was defeated, it was far from peaceful outside of the mountain. They argued that, should there ever be the need or wish to leave the mountain, she needed to be able to defend herself. Dwalin, being in charge of the guards, had access to the weaponry and armoury of Erebor. When he lead Arka to the halls, she was wondering whether or not he would be a gentle and understanding teacher. Given his rough and strong exterior, she found it hard to imagine him being any of the two.

As they arrived, he smirked before opening the door, letting her slip inside before him.

She gasped. The walls were covered in weapons, each more beautifully designed than the other. There were axes, spears, daggers, bows, two-handed hammers and swords. Arka didn’t even know where to start, simply being amazed by the attention to detail on every weapon. She stepped closer to one of the swords. Its hilt was wrapped in black straps of leather, the blade itself was straight, with small ornaments as decoration.

A huge hand reached over her shoulder, pointing at the design.

“There is a sigil of the blacksmith who forged this sword.”, Dwalin explained. She looked at the design again and found a small circle amidst it with a fist in it.

“His name is Dulog. He chose the fist as a sigil to honour his wife’s family with every blade he crafts. They belong to the clan of the Ironfists.”

Dwalin’s hand grabbed the hilt of the blade and gave it to Arka, smirking again. “You seem to like it. So let’s find out if you are any good with it.” He gave her leather training attire and gestured towards a door. “There’s a small chamber here, where you can change. We don’t want to rip that precious dress of yours.”

Arka walked to the chamber and inspected the training attire. Her dress was to be replaced by a leather corset with sleeves and a skirt, that was supposed to protect her legs.

'_How do I get this on by myself?_' She was able to slip the undergarments over her head but tying the laces of the leather corset herself was hard. Arka stepped outside the chamber, where Dwalin was already waiting for her. Upon seeing her in her ‘not-quite-so-ready’-attire, he turned his head quickly.

“Why are you not dressed properly?”, he barked, while focusing his gaze on a particularly interesting spot on the wall.

“Why does it have to have laces at the back?”, she came closer, certain that she was invading his personal space. She bit her lip, fumbling with the straps and letting out a frustrated growl. “This piece of shit…”, she let her arms fall down at her sides, eyeing Dwalin. “Could you please help me tie it?”, she asked carefully and waited for his response.

“That is highly inappropriate.”, his voice was strangled and he was still not looking at her directly. “It is not my place to do that.” Dwalin shuffled around, which was a sight to behold from such a fierce-looking warrior. “I can’t.”

Arka looked at him, completely puzzled. “Are you saying you are not able to tie a corset?”

Dwalin whirled around his face red. “That’s not it! I can, but I won’t. It is not my place. Besides, I don’t know if you will hurt me like before and **that** is an experience that I **don’t** want to make again.”

“Then whose place is it?!”, Arka was losing her patience. _'Stupid, stubborn dwarves.'_ “And I don’t know about the pain I have caused you, but I didn’t hurt Thorin this morning. So maybe we’re good?!” He was still not moving. “Fine, have it your way!” With that she threw her hands in the air and stormed off to stand in front of a huge battle-axe, she intended to use as a mirror. From what she was able to see, the corset sat on her waist nice and snuggly.

‘_Okay, I can do this…_’, she thought to herself and adjusted the sleeves a bit so that she was able to move her arms better. Through the axe, she saw two loops to the left and right of the laces. Hooking her fingers into those, she pulled, tightening the corset around her waist with a gasp.

‘_This is a bit… too tight._’

She quickly loosened it up a bit. Tucking at each string shortly, she laced the corset just to her liking, leaving enough breathing room while also supporting her form. Once she was finished, she turned around and looked at herself in the blade of the axe, noticing how the corset enhanced her figure even more. ‘_Lovely…_’

She faced Dwalin again, only then noticing her grave mistake: She had not yet changed her shoes.

“Uhm…”, she started and Dwalin’s gaze met hers. He looked at her like a deer in front of a bow, as if to say ‘Oh no.’

“Can I fight in my cloth slippers?”

For a moment there was silence. But then the dwarf burst into laughter. It was such a genuine laugh that she started giggling as well.

“You can absolutely **not** fight in your cloth slippers.”, he chuckled. “Unbelievable.”

“What? You didn’t give me any shoes before so I just… sort of… assumed.”, she was feeling rather stupid.

“Stop laughing!”, she hit his arm and grabbed onto his beige tunic, while she almost toppled over from laughter. She had a hard time breathing, her lungs restricted by the stupid corset-armour he gave her. Arka was becoming light-headed, but she couldn’t stop the sounds of joy escaping her mouth, echoing in canon with his much deeper voice.

“I.. I can’t breathe…”, she panted, clutching to his arm. Arka straightened her spine and staggered, drawing a deep breath in and exhaling with a shudder. The stars in front of her eyes slowly subsided. 

She felt warm hands around her arms and Dwalin helped her to stand.

When she looked up at him, to thank him, she was met by a concerned, confused, but also amazed look in his eyes. He was not laughing anymore and she felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over her.

“You didn’t hurt me.”, he stated as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say after touching someone. "You okay?"

She nodded, thinking about what he had said.

"You know, I... I don't really understand what I did to you and Thorin.", she whispered, unable to fight the feeling of guilt and confusion inside of her.

“He won’t talk about it, but your touch put him in a lot of pain. There were emotions in his eyes, as he carried you, that I have not seen on his face in a very long time.”, Dwalin answered truthfully and patted her head. “But don’t worry about it. Your touch seems to be fine now. Besides, you have other things to worry about.” His gaze travelled to her feet, that were still in her cloth slippers. He went ahead and gave her some metal boots, that were laced with leather in a similar fashion to his own.

“Oh, fuck you, Dwalin!”, she slapped his arm again before she took the boots and went to a free space at the stone wall. Leaning against it and straightening her spine, she lifted her right leg up and tried to take off the cloth slipper. ‘_Of course… My arms are too short…_’ A familiar laugh had her lifting her gaze, only to see Dwalin leaning on one of his axes for support as he watched her ordeal.

“You know, instead of laughing you could help me.”, she hissed, to which he lifted his head to gaze at her.

“As I said: It is not my place.”, he simply stated and she was ready to interrupt him when he lifted his hand and continued: “Changing a dam’s clothes is either done by other dwarrowdams or her family members or her husband. Seeing as I am neither of that, it would be inappropriate for me to assist you in that matter.” He pressed his lips together and looked at her apologetically. “Sorry.”, he added.

“But it’s just my shoes.”, she sighed, but he stayed where he was. “Please?”, she looked at him with big eyes, trying to soften his heart, but he only shook his head. She furrowed her brows and searched the room for a bench or a chair. When she found what she was looking for, she smiled and sat down, crossing her legs so that her right foot was resting on her left knee. Like this, she was able to open up the cloth slippers and change into the boots Dwalin had given her.

She was completely out of breath once she was finished, cursing Dwalin for not helping and tugging at the leather-corset that was restricting her, even though it wasn’t as tight as it was supposed to be. Arka glared at him when she saw him smiling.

“If we train again, I just want to wear a tunic and pants like you. That looks way more comfortable…”

“But it won’t help you. I chose this attire for you so that you can train with a limitation. That way you will fight more freely once you change your garments into something more flexible. Even our chain-mails, heavy as they might be, are more flexible than this leather piece.”

She hated how he had proper reason behind the decision. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

Arka grabbed the sword and that was the cue for Dwalin. He hoisted his axes and was ready to strike her.

She was far from prepared for it.

When he charged at her, her mind went blank and she was frozen to the spot, completely shocked by his approach of ‘Fight or flight’. While she saw him running to her, her body started to move on its own. It got her into a stance that allowed her to duck to the side and out of his attack, while she tried to strike him from behind with the blade. But she was too slow, her sword only halfway down when Dwalin turned around and disarmed her with a flick of his wrist, holding the other axe to her throat.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her, amusement sparkling in his bright eyes. “Not fast enough.” Dwalin took a step back, picked up the sword and gave it back to her. “Again.”

As he charged at her for the second time she wondered, whether or not she could actually parry his attack. There was no denying that he was strong, but she had to at least try. When he was near enough, she dodged to the side again. But instead of swinging her sword, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it so that he lost his grip on one of his axes and it clattered to the ground. As he rotated his torso to strike with the other weapon from above, she lifted her sword up, trying to hold it steady against him and his blow.

Yep, he was definitely strong.

Struggling, and with shaking arms, she pressed the blade with both hands against his axe. She was not strong enough, she had to think of something else. But before Arka could come up with anything, Dwalin simply took a step back. Her sword, now not obstructed by his weapon anymore, swished into the air and he quickly closed the distance again, grabbing both her wrists with his massive hand and taking the sword out of her grasp with his other one.

He smirked again. “Hm, not quite. But good thinking.”

He had just been about to take a step back when Arka had an idea. Using his outstretched arm as leverage, she jumped, hooking her right leg over his arm. Before he could react, her other foot landed on his chest and she kicked, leaning her whole body in his direction. He stumbled, his eyes going wide, as he fell onto his back with a gasp, her now squatting above him. Exploiting his shock, she quickly grabbed the sword and went to move it to his throat.

But Dwalin was faster. ‘Damn it!’, she cursed as he grabbed her foot, pushing it to the side so that she had to roll off of him. When she lay on her back, he planted his feet next to her body and held the sword to her throat, pinching her slightly, a wild look on his face.

“Almost, little dam. But still,” he winked “not quite.”

She growled in frustration and took his hand to get back to her feet. “It’s all because of this armour!”

Dwalin chuckled, inspecting the sword in his hand. “Well maybe it’s the weapon. The sword seems to be too heavy for you. You don’t use it to your advantage in your attacks. Instead of parrying me head-on, you dodge out of the attack trying something sneaky-“ he stopped himself, searching the weapons for something, “I wonder if…”, he mumbled, more to himself than at Arka and quickly strode to the wall. He brought the sword back to its place and then picked up a small bundle of leather. As he came back to where she was standing, he smiled. “Let’s try it with this.”, were his words as he handed her the package.

She unwrapped it and was greeted by a two-piece leather belt sheath, with just two handles showing. Arka pulled at them, revealing two mesmerizingly beautiful daggers. Their handle was golden and split at the top, revealing runes on either side. The metal had been worked with incredible attention to detail, creating one large socket, which was filled with a small gemstone. Underneath that, almost at the top of the blade, was another carving, this one in silver, with yet another rune. She had seen this symbol somewhere before. Her lips parted when she gently touched it, feeling its smooth surface. The blade itself on both daggers was made out of steel. It was wider at the top, slimmed down a bit and ended in a triangle-like broader tip. The shape was enhanced by a carving on the ‘inside’ of the blade, which traced the form with clean lines.

As Arka lifted one dagger into her hand, she felt as if her fingers melted to the blade, a perfect match. “Dwalin, these are beautiful!”, she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “Who made these? Whose rune is that?”

“I made them.” A voice behind her suddenly announced.

She whirled around and found Thorin standing there, still in his attire from the council meeting. He looked as broody as always, regarding Dwalin with a scowl. “Why did you give them to her?”, he asked, but before Dwalin could answer, Arka took a step forward and placed a hand on Thorin’s arm. His gaze immediately turned to her hand and then to her face.

“They are beautiful, Thorin.”, she said and put all her honesty into her words. “And they feel just right.”

She saw him swallow and his eyes searched hers to determine whether she was lying or not. She smiled at him, genuinely, a question on her tongue.

Thorin leaned into her, pressing a finger to her lips, just at the same time as she was about to open her mouth to say something. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, sending her body temperature into heat overdrive again. His gaze darkened, an unknown emotion settling in them. Thorin bowed his head and brought his lips to her ear, whispering: “If you like them so much, show me what you can do with them.”

As quickly as he had closed the space between them, he had stepped back, taking off his fur cloak. Unsheathing his sword, he walked away from her, mumbling something to Dwalin who just looked at him and chuckled. As he reached the middle of the hall, he turned around and bowed slightly to her.

“Whenever you’re ready.” With that he took a wider stance, lifting his sword to his chest with one hand.

Meanwhile, Arka was still having trouble breathing and getting his scent out of her system. Dwalin had touched her as well, but his hands did not have the same effect on her as Thorin’s. The dwarven king seemed to heighten her senses with a mere finger, increasing her body temperature by several degrees. Not only that she was getting hot, this heat spread through her whole body again, just like it had this morning, leaving behind a wetness between her legs and a desire for more of him. From a mere touch.

She gulped. ‘_Well, this is going to be fun…_’

Thorin spun his sword and waited for her to attack.

This was different from the training with Dwalin, where he had attacked her first. Arka fastened the sheath to the backside of her belt and drew the other dagger as well, feeling both their weights in her hands. She gave them a spin, noticing that she felt way more confident with them than with the sword. Taking a deep breath in order to quench that fire in her, which was only burning brighter as she looked at Thorin’s battle-ready masculine form, she stepped up to the middle of the room.

Arka wasn’t sure how she should go about her attack. She looked at Thorin’s stance, not detecting any opening she could have used for her advantage. She circled him, eyeing every inch of his body to find a spot to start her attack just right. As she stood behind him, she had an idea and moved quickly, trying to get one of her daggers to his throat. It was a rather direct approach, she admitted, but they had to start their fight somehow.

Thorin whirled around, grabbing her hand mid-air, while using his sword to disarm her second weapon, pointing his sword at her throat.

“Dead.”, he stated and smirked smugly. His hand on her wrist scorched her, his touch feeding her inner fire even more, and she gasped. His eyes darkened and he took a step back.

“Again.”

This time he moved with her and when he came forth to strike at her from above, she lifted one dagger up, effectively pressing it against his outer wrist and twisting hers. Thorin was forced to lower his wrist. She closed in with her other dagger, ready to strike him, when he took a step forward, wedging one of his legs between hers and pulling away her feet. She did, what she could do the best: Grabbing his tunic and taking him to the floor with her.

Which turned out to be a huge mistake.

All the air was pressed out of her lungs when he landed on top of her with all his weight. His sword slid over the floor, just outside his reach, and she felt her daggers under her arms and hands. Thorin quickly straddled her, putting his knees on her hands so that she was not able to reach her weapons. She panted, frustrated that he had not even broken out a sweat.

'_How much stamina can a single dwarf have?_'

Arka watched him, as his eyes travelled along her body. He felt like a furnace above her, generating so much heat inside of her, that she felt as if she was on fire. His scent wafted over to her and she fought against the thoughts in her head, unable to stop herself from fantasizing about him ravishing her. She would have buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and maybe, just maybe, she would have tasted his skin with her tongue, enjoying his quiet gasps as she did so, just to be held closer by him, wrapped in his strong arms, feeling his hands travelling to her breasts and - 

Arka shook her head. She had to think clearly if she wanted to win this fight. Ignoring the aching feeling between her legs, she struggled against him. But he did not budge. Instead, he kept smirking.

She scowled at him and tried to move her legs. But as he was blocking most of her thighs, she didn’t get very far. She had an idea and slowly lifted her upper body. Engaging her still slightly sore abdominal muscles, she had to bite her tongue to hide her wince.

Because of the movement, her hands slipped free from under his knees. He reacted by grasping them, moving slightly forward and pinning them next to her head, his hair falling down into her face.

She smirked. She had him right where she wanted: He had created an opening for her legs to fit through.

Straining against Thorin’s grip, she used his strength to her advantage. Actually holding onto his strong hands, Arka pulled her legs up to her chest. She planted her feet on his chest and pushed. It did not have the effect she had wished for as Thorin was as unmovable as a block of stone.

“Stop playing games.”, he growled, rotating his upper body and spreading her legs with his massive shoulders, while turning back.

Her legs were now effectively wrapped around his waist. He held her hands to the ground with one hand, while the other one grabbed one of Arka’s daggers and in the blink of an eye he had it at her throat.

Realizing that she had lost yet again, she let her head fall to the ground, releasing a frustrated groan. She felt his grip leaving her hands. And then felt his hands on her upper thighs. Arka let out a quiet, surprised moan, as his hands were at a way too sensitive place. She arched her back slightly, her folds clenching around nothing.

She could have sworn that she felt his thumb drawing small circles on the inside of her right thigh, but the sensation was gone too quickly. She lifted her head and stared at him, feeling heat creep up her face, making her incredibly flustered. He was eyeing her from above with dark eyes, and when she licked her lips, his eyes travelled to her mouth and back.

Thorin pushed against her thighs. Arka didn't even realize that she had held im in place, squeezing her legs against his torso. She quickly released him from her grasp and shuffled to her feet, ignoring Thorin's outstretched hand.

"Again.", he rasped.

After two additional rounds of training (also known as ‘sparring and rolling around on the floor’ apparently), Thorin had won each time and had now broken out a sweat. At this point, Arka was almost done for. Their exchanges and the body contact left her burning, almost anticipating his touch on her hands or her body in general. She felt feverish, high on a substance called ‘Thorin’ which included his smell, his voice and his touch. The two of them had caught the attention of several dwarves, who were now standing in a circle around them, whistling and cheering for either Thorin or Arka. Even though she hated being in the spotlight, she simply concentrated on Thorin and everything was alright. During their fight itself, she didn’t even really notice the bystanders.

They had agreed on one last round, and Arka was happy as well as sad it was their last one. They were circling one another again and she was exhausted. Yet she couldn’t get enough of him at the same time. She lay down her daggers and continued moving around him, relishing his confused look.

“What are you doing?”, he hissed, dropping his sword.

“Don’t you worry about that.”, she smiled softly at him. “You will see it soon enough.”

She could see that he didn’t like that. He scowled at her for not fighting properly.

“Don’t look at me like this.”, she laughed, softening his gaze a little. She knew how she had to go about this. “You are too strong for me, to defeat you head-on. So I had to think about something.” She drew her circle a little bit closer to him, still eyeing him.

“And what has your brilliant mind come up with?”, he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She snickered, coming still a little bit closer. “Hm, I won’t tell you, Thorin Oakenshield.”, she took another step, “Son of Thráin.”, and another one, now standing in front of him, lifting her gaze and looking into his blue eyes. “Son of Thrór.” Arka stretched out her right hand, to get a hold of his tunic, but he turned away.

With one quick step, she rounded him and jumped onto his back, hands around his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. For a split second, she was worried that he might stagger, but he proved to be a boulder once more.

'_Perfect._'

Before she could go any further with her plan, he reacted, grasping both her hands with one of his. He turned his head to the side, attempting to look at her. “What is that supposed to do?”, amusement was evident in his voice and Arka laughed. She let her head rest on his shoulder, moving closer to his skin. She could almost taste him on her tongue, a mixture of salt and man, seemingly the perfect combination for her senses. She had to struggle, to keep her mouth from touching his neck, his scent wrapped all around her.

Arka slowly lifted her head, her lips moving to his ear.

“I am distracting you… Thorin.”, she whispered and he shivered slightly.

Arka, now secure on his back through his hand, unwrapped her legs from around him and pressed her feet into the back of his knees. Thorin sank down with a grunt and she now stood on the back of his legs. His grip on her hands loosened shortly, long enough for Arka to react. With one hand she pulled on his incredibly soft hair, tilting his head backwards, against her hip, while the other one grasped his dagger and put it to his neck. She looked down at him.

And he was looking up at her with a mixture of admiration and fascination in his bright blue eyes, a genuine smile playing on his slightly parted lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *goes hiding under a rock* Still new to writing smutty things. It is so difficult to write "tension", any tips would be highly appreciated! Now onwards, we shall not keep the King waiting: 
> 
> Thorin's Tormenting Thoughts:
> 
> \- He is so fucking proud that she likes HIS daggers
> 
> \- jealous of Dwalin because he heard her laughter echoing through the halls
> 
> \- "I can show you what else feels just right..."
> 
> \- thinking "fuck" as he feels her arousal when he touches her lip (which was SO not royal)
> 
> \- Arka's moan made him hard in the blink of an eye (thank Mahal for wide flowy pants and armour, to hide it)


	5. Concerning Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything out of "The Hobbit". This is a non-profit fanfic to fix my broken heart after BOFA.  
__________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos, visits and comments! <3

After their fight, Arka went inside the changing chambers, to get back into her gown. While she was unclasping the belt, her fingers brushed over the empty dagger sheath and she smiled warmly.

"How could you give them to her?", she imitated Thorin's voice, as best as she could, while she took off the belt and started loosening up the corset. She slipped out of it and tossed the undershirt to the side. Looking down at her bare chest, she inspected the red glow of her heart. It was much more prominent than it had been this morning, darker, almost glowing like the last coals in a fire, a deep red coming out of her chest.

She was lost in thought, when the door to the chamber was opened behind her back and a baritone voice spoke to her.

"Hey, you forgot-"

Her eyes widened, and she just mouthed a silent 'Fuck!' to the wall in front of her.

"My deepest apologies.", Thorin mumbled, and she noticed a strain in his voice. 

"Uhm... Noted." she said, while she closed her eyes, annoyed at herself. 'Noted?! What sort of answer is that?' She mentally slapped herself.

"It's okay.", she croaked, not happy with that answer either. She was glad that she faced the wall and not him.

She heard him breathing in, before he answered her. "No, it's not."

The door closed behind her and when Arka turned around, he was nowhere to be seen.

She slipped into her dress, fastening it with her belt, and then changed her shoes. As she moved to the door, she noticed a small stool to its right. On top of it was a blue piece of velvet cloth, embroidered with a silver rune in the middle, where the daggers had been placed.

As Arka reached for them, a smile played around her lips. He had decided to give them to her.

She picked both of them up, letting their weight sit in her hands for a short while, before placing them in the leather sheath on her belt. She picked up the cloth and gasped as she was hit was Thorin’s scent, that clung to the fabric.

Pipewood and him, that musky, masculine scent she had noticed when they had been fighting, too. Whether it was from his soap or simply his body, she could not say. Inhaling deeply, she let the delicious combination enter her system. She sighed contently. The scents heady notes wrapped around her nerves and aching muscles, traveling through her body just like the warmth of his body had. But instead of heating her up, it now cooled her down, soothing her aching muscles. It left a feeling inside her, that she couldn’t quite place.

It felt so familiar, that Arka was more confused than ever. She quickly opened the door and scanned the training room with her eyes, looking for Thorin, but she only saw his retreating back at the end of the hall, and then he was gone.

“Damn it!”, she exclaimed.

And suddenly she was crowded by ten dwarves, Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli amidst them, that showered her with compliments about the fight.

“Such a nice trick you pulled there! I’ve never seen our uncle so surprised!”, Kíli was beaming with joy and crushed her in a big bear-hug.

Arka blushed furiously and fumbled with her hands.

“Thank you… I… Kinda ran out of ideas?” She chuckled nervously, while pushing Kíli away so that she could breathe properly again.

Her dwarven entourage cheered for her, while she was only getting redder.

“You guys are unbelievable…”, Arka murmured.

“Exploiting his own strength to bring him down, not bad, lass.”, Dwalin said. His gaze fell to the daggers on her belt, and he smiled. “So, all his scowling for nothing, eh? He gave them to you.”

“I… Yes. Thank you, Dwalin.” Arka smiled at him. “Ah, that reminds me!” She pulled the velvet cloth out of her pocket. “Thorin wrapped the daggers in this, but he left the cloth.” She nibbled at her bottom lip. “Could you possibly give it back to him? I don’t know where he went, and I figured that you would probably see him again this evening?” Arka looked at the warrior questioningly.

Dwalin chuckled. “Aye, I can give it back. Don’t you worry.” He pocketed the cloth and sat down on one of the benches.

Fíli and Kíli brought her back to the main hall, where she saw Masga talk to another dwarf. Arka thanked them for their help with a smile and a small bow.

The healer lay her arm around Arka’s shoulders and looked at the dwarf she had been talking to. “Thanks for letting me know! We’ll see each other tomorrow.” She smiled at him and once he was gone, Masga turned around to take in Arka’s form.

“You look disheveled. What did that ‘training’ entail?” With a wink she led Arka into her home and while she was cooking dinner, she wanted to hear everything about her day. Arka insisted on helping her and began to cut some vegetables for a hearty stew.

“Well, I had this weapon training today with Dwalin.”, she started and chuckled. “I was so bad with the sword, you wouldn’t believe it. I would call myself an utter disgrace after that performance.”

Masga grinned. “Why? What happened?”

“Dwalin gave me this leather-corset armor and it was horrible! I hate it! You know, it has a regular undershirt, nothing out of the ordinary. You put it over your head and then you have to tie the bastard behind your back.” Arka huffed. “And Dwalin didn’t want to help me, which was- What? Why are you laughing?”

The healer shook and had to take her hands off her knife. “You did **not** ask him to help you! Have you seen his hands? He would’ve ripped the whole thing off with one pull.” Masga laughed.

Arka snorted. “Most likely... But instead of saying something like ‘No, Arka, I’d rather not rip it’ he only said that ‘it was not his place’. What is that even supposed to mean? Whose place is it?”

Masga furrowed her eyebrows. “Some dwarves can feel it if a dam has a mate or a soul-mate even if they might not have met yet. That is why some keep their distance.”

“A mate?” Arka threw her hands in the air. "I am not some sort of animal."

“Well, some like to call it ‘your partner for life’. They will open up your heart and you theirs respectively. And then you will see them in a completely different light.” Masga sighed.

“How do you know if you have met that person?”

“They will make you feel… complete and at ease. However, they can also challenge your way of thinking immensely, showing you paths, you have not known before. That often results in numerous fights and power struggles, especially in the beginning. But you know what they say: Teasing is a sign of affection."

Arka pushed the first part of her vegetables off the cutting board and into the pot with water. Masga regarded her with a thoughtful glance.

“Finding a mate is a very rare thing for dwarves. It only happens to a handful of people per clan or kingdom. Such a connection is precious and very special. I once read that every person experiences their mate differently, which is why it is difficult to understand for the two it involves.”

“If what you say is true, then… Can I even make my own choices still? Or is everything set in stone now?”, Arka wondered.

“You always have choice, dear.” Masga gently placed a hand on Arka’s cheek. “Don’t worry. No one can force anything on you, not even your mate. If you indeed have one, then they have to understand your nature and your decisions.” The healer took the knife out of her hand and gestured for her to sit on the bed.

Arka sighed. “I just feel so weird not knowing about any of this.”

She leaned back and stretched, her muscles cracking into place. Gasping slightly she realized just how much her whole body was aching. Her legs and arms almost felt like jelly, now that the adrenaline from the fighting was leaving her. Arka focused her eyes on the fire and watched the flames devour a fresh log.

“What if I have a family that misses me? Or a husband, and he is the one why Dwalin keeps his distance? Could I have forgotten something like that?” Arka nibbled on her lower lip anxiously and felt light-headed. Now that she’d voiced her thoughts, they seemed more real and it scared her.

Masga picked up the stew pot and hooked it over the fire. She sat down on one of the stools, while furrowing her brows.

“You could suffer from a form of trauma.”

“Trauma?” Arka huffed and let her head fall back, while closing her eyes.

“Sometimes our bodies close off certain parts of our memories to protect us from painful events. Most patients I have witnessed, got their memories back bit by bit, triggered by small, sometimes random events. Some reported visions in their dreams. It is all a bit hazy because as healers we cannot look into their mind, only at what they show us.”

Arka massaged her temples. “What could have possibly been the reason for that?”

“I don’t know, Arka. I truly don’t.” Masga picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the stew.

“Stressing yourself and forcing your mind to remember could slow the process, so we should work with what we have and know: You have a red-glowing heart and your touch is potentially dangerous for dwarves, but not dwarrowdams as it seems.”

Arka breathed in slowly. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone. You’ve heard Thorin and Dwalin and what I must have put them through when they brought me here.”

“That’s why I said ‘potentially’. Maybe, that power is triggered by something. We could always do some tests if you want.”

“I’d like that.”, Arka said softly and chuckled. “I really have no idea what I would do without you.”

Masga smiled. “You would be doing just fine. You are a strong lass.” She looked Arka over quickly. “Do you need anything for your muscles? I could prepare a tea for you.”

Without waiting for Arka’s answer, Masga rushed back into the kitchen. A minute later, the tea water was boiling happily in the flames.

After Arka ate with Masga and Balin, the healer showed her to her room. She had cleared a small guest room in the house for Arka to live in as long as she was adjusting to her new life under the mountain. Arka was more thankful than ever for the sweet dwarrowdam.

The room's interior was rather scarce, but Arka didn't mind. She was happy to have a small space of her own, where she could sleep and maybe spend some time reading the books Balin had brought with him from the library for her. They were about the history of the line of Durin, his own historical report of the dreadful events when they lost Erebor to the dragon and the adventures that followed. She was eager to learn more about everyone she was spending time with, but not today.

As Arka lay down in her bed, she heard and felt her spine relaxing. She arched her back to stretch and sighed contently as she snuggled under the blanket. It didn't take long for sleep to overcome her, stealing her consciousness away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please excuse the rather long wait for a new chapter. Uni and life kind of caught up with me and I had to sort some things before I could get back to writing. I also thought about the general direction of this fanfiction, realizing that it will probably be anything but a "slow burn" because I am so excited to write the naughty stuff! I hope you enjoyed this rather short chapter; the next chapters are going to be a bit longer again, no worries! Sadly no tormenting thoughts from Thorin for this chapter!


	6. For a Voice like Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything out of "The Hobbit". This is a non-profit fanfic to fix my broken heart after BOFA.  
__________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos, visits and comments! <3 They truly mean the world to me!

The next days were rather uneventful. Arka had decided to first learn how to read and write properly, before going after any profession, so she spent most of her time reading together with Balin and writing with Orí in the library. Her letters had character, but she knew that they were far from elegant.

Every evening she had sparred for fun with Dwalin and was delighted that he made the time for her. His strength was certainly admirable and Arka used their training to occasionally test different theories regarding her powers on him. So far, it had proven to be difficult to touch his bare skin because Dwalin rarely gave her an opportunity for that with his long sleeves. On one of the days however, Arka managed to touch the back of his neck with her bare hand. Her body did not react in any way, other than feeling calm and comfortable.

Dwalin had quickly pried her hand off him, muttering something about “inappropriate…” while gently shoving her away. Upon asking him, if she had hurt him, he had just laughed and nudged her with his shoulder. Arka had briefly wondered if that was a “yes” or a “no” in Dwalin’s language, but he didn’t clear that up for her.

After one week, Arka wanted to learn a few things about medicine. Masga was more than happy to take her alongside with her.

“We are visiting patients in their own homes today.”, Masga explained while packing her satchel with ointments and funny-smelling tinctures. Arka picked one bottle up and unscrewed the cork just to be hit by a stench that made bile rise in her throat. 

Coughing, she smashed the cork back in and placed the bottle in Masga’s satchel. The healer eyed her with a mischievous grin. “Didn’t like that one, did you?” 

Arka looked at her and laughed. “Not one bit. What is that?” 

“Cough syrup. It's made from fermented onions and honey with a smidgen of sugar. Highly effective once the patient gets it through their throat. Most just pinch their nose to weaken the taste a bit.” 

“I wonder why…” Arka joked and bowed down to close up her slippers. Standing up, she smoothed her dress down and put on her silvery belt. She decided that today she would not need her daggers, so she had left the sheath in her room.

Masga looked her up and down, furrowing her brows. “You definitely need some over-garments. It’s getting colder outside already and if you want to attend Durin’s day, you most certainly need a coat or better yet some fur. Something to keep you nice and warm and snuggly.” 

Arka ran her hand through her hair, combing it gently with her fingers and braiding it at one side into a fishtail-braid Masga had taught her. “I just need a portable forge. Dwalin has shown me the big forge a few days ago and it was warm enough just walking past it.” She tied her braid with a string.

Masga snorted. “That would be warm enough, true. However, I think you should stick to new garments.”

“But how would I pay for them?” Arka fidgeted with her hands and put them in the pockets on the front of her dress.

“You will repay them once you have established your craft, don’t worry. Whatever you decide to do, you will have customers and decide the value of your work. It will all settle then.” Masga slung her satchel over her shoulder and slipped into her boots. Upon noticing Arka’s cloth slippers, she looked at her protégée and cringed. “And you need proper boots as well. Dwalin is very talented in that regard, so maybe instead of fighting you should also use your time for talking.” The healer winked and Arka blushed.

“We DO talk! We don’t just… smash our heads in. It just didn’t occur to me that I would need warmer clothing, considering I was not cold so far.” 

“Whatever you say, lass.” Masga opened the door and before they stepped out, Arka made a face at the healer.

The first patient they visited was a young dwarf who had injured himself while working in the mines. Upon entering his shack, Arka immediately noticed the musky stench of old sweat. Apparently the wound had prevented the dwarf from taking a bath. She had to grind her teeth to get a distraction from the smell, but that didn’t have the desired effect. Masga spun her around and handed her a small vial with an oil inside.

“Rub that around your nose, lass. Will smell like flowers in no time.”, the older dam chuckled and went to the bed to examine the dwarf’s wounds and talk to him.

Arka opened the vial and put some of the oil on her pointer finger. It was cool to the touch and when she lifted her coated finger to her nose, it smelled of freshly picked roses. She almost sighed with content when the stench of sweat left her nose. She turned around and joined Masga.

The healer was already preparing small cotton balls to clean the wound, dipping them in a vile smelling alcohol. The dwarf apparently miscalculated his swing with the pickaxe and slipped, slashing the tool across his leg. The wound itself was not deep, but it looked gnarly nontheless. When Masga put one cotton ball across the bottom half of it, the dwarf pressed his lips together and started growling lowly, like a wounded animal.

Arka stepped around Masga and put her hand on the lad’s bare arm. A tingle went through her system, before she felt a distracting and uncomfortable feeling spread in her body. It was not painful, but it made her very aware of the pain, the dwarf was in. It felt like a vice around her muscles, squeezing her and holding her in place. She furrowed her brows and looked into his dark brown eyes.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of you.”, she whispered and drew small circles with her fingers on top of his skin. 

He had slumbed back the second her fingers had touched his skin, but now he exhaled shakily and his eyes rolled back. He licked his dry lips and gulped. “You…”, he said with a raw voice, “... are sent by Mahal.” And with that he passed out.

Masga nudged her with her shoulder, not looking up from her task on his leg.

“What happened?” 

“When I touched him, I kind of felt his pain? Not in a painful sort of way, it was just this pressure on my body. As if there was something weighing it down.” Arka answered truthfully.

“Hm, maybe something for our little book then?” The healer bowed down to her satchel and produced a needle and thread, as well as a salve and another ointment.

Arka nodded and reached into one pocket of her dress to produce a leatherbound book with a pen attached to it. She and Masga had started writing down anything that occured to them regarding her condition. Although the healer liked to call it her “abilities”, Arka was not yet sure how to call it. She opened up the book and skimmed over the last entries. So far they had only documented that her touch seemed to have something to do with emotions and that she had a red-glowing heart. Arka herself had added the description of the feeling of fire and lust at the back of the book.

She switched to a new page and began scribbling, while biting her lip, trying to decide how to phrase it. “Pressure… on my body…”, she murmured while writing, “upon touching… dwarf in pain…”

“Add what he said as well and his reaction. It’s important to be as exact as possible with such recordings.”, Masga added and Arka nodded.

“Right, thank you.” She looked at the dwarf and then down onto her paper again. “Dwarf said… You are sent by Mahal…”, she tried her best to write His name with intricate letters, but to no avail. She still had to get the hang of all the Khuzdul runes.

Masga had cleaned up the wound in the meantime and now they were able to see the whole slash. “Luckily he heals quickly. The wound is not bleeding anymore, it’s just the skin that’s broken.”

And thus the healer numbed the skin around the wound with a salve. Masga took needle and threat and stitched a few buried sutures along the wound to keep it from opening, before closing up the skin with a simple running stitch. She finished the procedure by oiling up the skin with the ointment, which was made out of fermented, dried carrots and oil.

Arka spent the next few days helping out Masga with patients while learning about all sort of procedures. She had stitched up quite a few wounds, handed out medicine and brewed countless teas. The glow in her heart was rather faint, almost dying down. She didn’t think much of it at first, but every now and then it would spike up in colour.

One evening, Masga treated a patient in her home, an older dwarf with a bad case of a cough. Arka weaseled around the fire downstairs, brewing a tea and talking to the patient about this and that, while sitting on one of the stools at the table, when suddenly she felt like she was being watched. A shiver ran down her spine and she looked out the window.

“What the…”, she started and rushed to the glass. Peering out into the dark, she was sure she had just seen a figure standing outside. She thought she had seen bright blue eyes and silver strands of hair, but as she was looking outside, there was noone there. Arka stood up and walked outside. The massive hall was only lit on a few corners and she was not able to see anyone. The only indication that she was, indeed, not crazy, were the heavy footsteps she heard retreating. A shadow walked up the stairs on the other side of the hall and halted on the middle. 

The figure turned around and Arka felt her chest tightening. A feeling of solitude hit her heart and a longing sensation lingered on her skin, the wish to be held so strong, that she had to gasp, as her throat closed up. 

As quickly as it had come over her, the feeling was gone. As was the figure on the stairs.

This night, her heart was brighter than it had been in over a week.

The next day, Arka was supposed to learn something about the craft of a blacksmith. Dwalin had collected her after breakfast and they were on their way to the forge. Arka had a skip in her walk because she was excited to learn new things. 

“You know what awaits you, right?” Dwalin joked and eyed her from the side.

Arka smiled. “Countless hours of fun at the forge?”

Dwalin grunted. “Thorin will teach you. He is relentless at the forge.”

Arka halted so abruptly that she tripped over her own feet. If it weren’t for Dwalin’s arms, which had caught her in time, she would have greeted the floor with her head. She briefly felt fear, which was almost instantly replaced with a feeling of relief. 

Dwalin pulled her to her feet and she looked at him incredulously. She opened and closed her mouth again, looking for the right words.

“Did you just…”, she started, but shook her head. “Was that… Were you…”

“Is this going somewhere?”, Dwalin asked her with a slight chuckle.

“Didn’t you… feel that?”, Arka wondered and looked at his hands, that were still encircling her wrists. He gently let her go and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“What?”

“Were you… Concerned about me falling down and then... relieved?” Arka furrowed her brows.

Dwalin’s eyes met hers and he quickly looked away, like a boy who had been caught staring. A boy who had been found out.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Arka.” The blush on his face told a different story however.

“Dwalin…”, Arka stretched his name out and reached for his arm. 

He took a step back and she followed. They both looked down at his arm. Dwalin had rolled his sleeves up, so that his tan skin was visible, covered in fine dark hair. Arka stalked forward, trying to grasp his arm, but the warrior had quickly pulled both his sleeves down before she could touch him.

“Dwalin.”, she stated again, looking up into his eyes and encircling his clothed wrist with her hand. Nothing.

The dwarf carefully placed his hand on her shoulder and shoved her back, out of his personal space, whilst avoiding her eyes.

“You have to tell me. Please.”, she pleaded, bowing down slightly, trying to catch his gaze. When he didn’t make a move to stay still, she grew frustrated.  _ ‘Why does he have to be so stubborn?’  _

Sighing, she put both of her hands on his cheeks, holding his head still, and she looked into his eyes. His skin was warm under her fingertips, his beard soft and dense. His gaze was filled with embarrassment and he wasn’t able to look at her properly, his eyes roaming around the hall.

Arka felt a feeling of shame roll over her and let go of him immediately. He took a step back and looked down immediately, avoiding her curious gaze once more.

“Why are you… ashamed?”, she enquired. Arka hadn’t known how much she relied on looking into a person’s face while talking up until now.

The dwarf in question grumbled, his voice low and soft. “Because you shouldn’t be touching me like that. It’s inappropriate.”

Arka looked at him incredulously. “Inappropriate? Dwalin, don’t you understand? You might have just helped me immensely! You could be the key to understanding it all.” She wanted to step forward and grasp his arms again, but decided against it, seeing how he eyed her hands with an uncomfortable gaze.

He looked up from the ground and into her face. “Understanding what exactly?”

Arka rolled her eyes. “The things I am feeling whenever I touch someone! I just felt when you were concerned, then relieved and now your shame. Maybe you can help me understand!”

Dwalin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tugging his thumbs between his linen shirt and his belt. “So you want me to what exactly?” 

Arka stepped closer, to which he snapped his eyes open and fixed her with a warning gaze that had her rooted to the spot.

“Well, I don’t exactly know, but… Would you consider, uhm… coming over this evening?”

“Absolutely not.” His voice was firm and stern. 

If Arka hadn’t known him a little by now, she would have been intimidated. But her excitement made her giddy. “Please?” 

The warrior exhaled shakily and shook his head. “I can’t. It’s not right.” He crossed his arms, making the sleeves ride up just a little bit, revealing his strong arms. The weapons on his belt made a clanking noise as he shifted his feet.

Arka balled her hands to little fists at her side and had to resist groaning in frustration. He had given her a clue on her identity, her powers, what she was able to do, and he still talked about how appropriate a simple touch was? 

“Dwalin. I do not care about that. No one has given me a reason to believe that they are my mate, for all we know, it could be you.” He huffed and gave her a look. “Don’t look at me like that. We don’t know anything, so why are you so stubborn?!” She put her hands on her waist and tapped the floor with one foot. Her rant had her fuming. “I don’t know what you think you are doing, but I thought I could trust you to have my back and to help me. And now, that you have given me a clue on what I can do, you leave me hanging because of some stupid prophecy-like mating bullshit?”

“Arka, it’s not-”

“What? ‘That simple’? Yes, Dwalin, it is.”

He stepped in closer and reached out to her. “You don’t understand…”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but Dwalin silenced her with a sharp look and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Arka blushed at the sudden intimacy and didn’t move.

“Do you know what happens, if the mate is not pursued?” His gravely voice mumbled and he let his hand fall back to his side. 

Arka shook her head. “No, why? Masga said I always have a choice.”

Dwalin pressed his lips together and ran one of his hands over his face. “Well… That complicates things.”

“What? And please don’t make this another riddle.”

“Having a mate is a privilege that is not given lightly by Mahal. Those who have got a mate, they… There’s a good reason why they have one. Because they are the only ones who can protect their sanity.”

“Their sanity? What?” Arka exhaled and raised her eyebrows.

“Your mate is the one that grounds you. They protect you just as much as you protect them, but in a different way. A dwarf usually protects his dam on a physical level from outside influences. We are warriors, we are strong, we can do that. Dams protect their mate’s sanity, keep them from going insane. They heal their mind.”

Arka suddenly felt nauseous and light-headed. Was Dwalin saying what she thought he was saying? He extended his arm for her to take, a concerned look in his face.

“Did Masga not tell you that?” He inquired, encircling her arm with his hand to keep her steady.

Arka’s throat ran dry, countless thoughts forming in her head.

“No, she… She said I have a choice. But what you’re saying is… I would be responsible. It would be my fault.”

“Well, in a sense she was not wrong. You do have a choice. It’s just not a pleasant one.”

She lost her footing. Arka felt like falling, like someone had swept her right off her feet. She clung to Dwalin’s arm, but only heard his voice from far away, echoing in her head. Her eyes rolled back and the last thing she heard was a growl of thunder, bellowing her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around and sorry for that small cliffhanger! I am slowly getting on top of my writing again, just bear with me :) Who's up for a round of Thorin's emotionally depraved self? :D 
> 
> Thorin's Tormenting Thoughts:
> 
> \- Having the urge to see Arka, he simply stood in front of the window and watched her work, without really thinking about what he was doing and how weird that must've looked.
> 
> \- More than happy to show off his skills at the forge, excited even.
> 
> \- Seeing Arka and Dwalin from the distance made him furious. Why were they so close? And why did he even care?
> 
> \- Not thinking at all when he sees, and somehow feels, Arka fall unconscious, just reacting by shouting her name and running towards her.


End file.
